Chapter VI.
Jack did not look at him for days afterwards. He still talked to Jamie to teach him about the world around them, but he never met his eyes when Jamie tried to get his full attention. And Jamie knew he rightly deserved it. The incident at the meetinghouse was the only thing burning in his mind for quite a while; his guilt and shame boiling over every time he thought of his disrespectful actions. Though, he had realized after too long of moping, this wasn't the time to feel sorry for himself. It had happened, there were consequences, and all he could do was do better, learn from his mistakes, and move on.
Hours after the incident, well into the night, ugly bruises had bloomed rapidly over the entirety of Jamie's kneecaps, visibly swollen and smarting terribly whenever he stood or moved strenuously. Jack had helped him with moving about Monday morning, assisting him with simple things like getting out of bed and into the cold bath.
And now, starting Sunday but really beginning Monday, just as Mrs. Overland had warned days before, the family needed to return to their duties. And apparently, there hadn't been any reprieve from Jamie's pained knees, the higher ups seeming not to care of his predicament, seeming it a fitting punishment. Jamie never did fight them on that.
Limping in the morning sunlight, bright but cold Jamie made his way with Jack leading him to the school, where he would be dropping off his sister, Emily.
Just as he'd predicted, Enily was a spitfire, sometimes defiant with her mother and other times scolding her brother Jack for his jokes (which had been a little mean at times, but Jamie did not speak up). Mrs. Overland seemed to have become accustomed to her daughter's fiery streak, doing her best to keep her calm and to minimize the damage when necessary.
Emily, on the other hand, had no such qualms. Jamie supposed, in Mrs. Overland's eyes, she never acted like a proper growing girl fitted with a demure smile and timid frame. She was loud, crass, and loved wrestling and playing in the dirt with the other boys her age. The little girl had no care for how people viewed her, often snapping back when someone tried to bully her, unfazed by the cruel words spouted from cruel children.
It seems he'd misjudged his perception of Emily yesterday, thinking her a quiet girl. Oh, how wrong he'd been.
As the duo, one limping and the other still wielding his staff like a crutch instead of a weapon, Jamie spies a gaggle of children before the large schoolhouse—bigger than most of the lived-in homes, but relatively smaller than Lord Sufford's home, with the same clapboard walls as the rest of the structures in the village, donning a wide window facade with a small batten door as the main entrance—being lead to the front door by a stout woman holding a thick leather-bound Bible, a small book hidden within the folds of her sleeves.
One of the children, a little dirty blonde-haired girl wearing a blue petti- and waist-coat spots them, her lips stretching in a wide grin. Emily, who had been walking beside Jack chattering endlessly, spots the girl next and lets out a shriek of excitement. Like good friends, they hug and exchange babbling words Jamie can't fully understand. Emily then turns to Jack, who hugs her goodbye, eyes Jamie but gives him an amicable wave, and then departs into the jabbering crowd of young schoolchildren.
Mercy, her attention drawn to them now, raises her hand to wave at him, but it's Jack who waves back, smiling for the first time since the day at the meetinghouse.
"Mercy!" He says.
"Jack!" The blonde girl, Mercy—what a weird name—chirps in return, gaining the attention of the other children who squeal in delight. Another child, a slightly older light brown-haired girl, approaches. "Hello, Jack!"
"Hello, Abigail." Jack greets.
Abigail then notices Jamie, and her face does something funny, nose scrunching and eyebrows furrowing. "Who is this?"
"Jamie Bennett." Jack explains smoothly. "He rescued me from the dark depths of the forest."
Technically not a lie, though some omission is there.
"Oh. The little Bennett boy." Abigail's voice is flat, her arms crossed. "From the meetinghouse yesterday?"
Biting back a resigned sigh, Jamie nods at the girl.
"Hm." is all she says and turns away, leaving Mercy to stand awkwardly behind her.
"How do you do you, Jack?" She then bursts out, eyes shining in awe. "Mama told me you were hurt!"
Jack only chuckles. "I am fine, dear Mercy."
Just then, a shriek echoes from the crowd of youngsters, and there is the sound of flesh hitting flesh, fist on bone. Jamie, alarmed, isn't sure what to make of it and hesitates to intervene on the fight that had just begun. Several pairs of eyes turn to a meager horde forming near an ancient looking tree wearing orange leaves.
"Aye!" Mercy's eyes light up even more at the rising voices. "Is that Bennett and Emily I hear?"
Jamie blinked. There's another Bennett here? Distantly, he recalls one of the men from the search party last week mentioning his relation to Sir Bennett and his son. Was this the boy Mercy is speaking of?
To his surprise, Jack sighs. "Again?"
Mercy giggles. "Of course! Come, come with me! Come and see!"
Jack shakes his head, nudges Jamie without looking him in the eye, and they follow the girl Mercy to a gathering crowd of children of varying heights and ages, who upon noticing them part a pathway to the very center of the audience.
In the middle is Emily red-faced and screeching at a boy a bit taller than her, who is also red-faced but has his arms crossed. He wears an unbuttoned blue jerkin, brown trousers, and buckled black shoes. On his left cheek is rapidly brushing ruddy welt, and there is no denying it was Emily based on her split knuckles.
Jamie withholds an impressed whistle. She's got quite the mean right hook for someone her age.
Though before Jack or Jamie can intervene, the old woman holding the books grabs Emily by the collar with her free hand and hauls her away from the Bennett boy, and that is when Jack intervenes.
Feeling as he's intruding, Jamie looks away from the purple-faced woman, a reddened Emily, and a pale Jack as he hobbles with his staff. Honestly, what is up with that? Jamie thinks in a moment of confusion.
"What do you think you're doing, little girl?" The woman demands, releasing Emily's collar once the girl calms.
"Edward's called Jack mad!" Emily screeches, pointing an accusing finger at the boy nursing his wounded cheek. He scowled, "Right hypocrite you are!" He retorts hotly, "I heard you call the stranger mad! Stark-raving, you said!"
"That's different!" Emily counters angrily.
"Enough!" The woman shouts, silencing the two. "Enough quarreling, both of you. Your classes are about to start so you must sort yourselves now."
Just then, the door to the schoolhouse opens and a much younger woman appears, holding her skirts. She is young in age, perhaps older than Jamie himself, with baby blue eyes and fair skin, her blonde hair covered with a plain white coif. Jamie can't help but be startled by her beauty.
"Schoolmarm Miller, what is this ruckus?"
"Nothing of the matter, dear." Says the schoolmarm (whatever that means), then turns to the wide-eyed children. "Off you get, now." Reluctantly they allow themselves to be led into the schoolhouse, the young woman holding the door open for them as they enter. Jamie risks a peek from where he stands with Jack, and spies desks made of wood logs and precarious wood benches for their chairs, looking away when he makes eye contact with the woman by the doorstep.
"I expect written lines before the end of the classes from both of you, lest it be ten whacks on your rears instead!" Miller tells Emily and Edward, who hang their heads. "Yes, Schoolmarm Miller," they intone guiltily. Once they are past the threshold, the door closes and Jamie is left alone with a sullen Jack and the teacher.
"This is the foreigner?" Schoolmarm Miller asks once she is gone, but it sounds more like a demand. Jamie can't help but rear back a little at the sudden coolness of her tone, compared to the gentle but firm one she imposed on her students.
Jack nudges him. So much for being helpful.
"Yes," he says, as formal as he can. "I am he."
"Stranger, Edward calls you." Miller's eyes are scrutinizing, like all others he's met so far in this time period. From the corner of his eyes, he sees Jack nod. God, they're still on about him being a foreigner? Why? He wants to ask, but holds his tongue.
"Hopefully you aren't the devil in hiding."
Jamie blinks, thrown. "What?"
Beside him, Jack tenses.
"Do not make me repeat myself, young man." Miller snaps. "All the town has heard your little spat with Minister Jones. Sitted on your knees for an hour. Sullied the poor widow's reputation even more."
Jamie winces at the mention of the incident, the simmering wound still fresh. "And I am sorry for that. I do not know much of the rules here." He replies.
"Aye, you did not." Muller agrees. "You made yourself into a fool—a terrible first impression. People have already begun to talk; gossip about you and your origins. I do, too, wonder where you hail?"
He answers quickly, but not too quickly. "Philadelphia, ma'am."
"Hm." She hums, unconvinced, "Or perhaps you hail from England? Or rather the dark wood that is filled with all things wicked?" Her cool blue eyes become beady, narrowing into his own brown eyes.
Is that what people really think of him? Some hermit from the woods? Or England, a place he's never been?
"Some of the folk here think backwards," Miller continues tersely, "Think you are some beast from the unknown, a wolf disguised as a man. It has only been a week, I will admit, but folks love to gossip. We have eyes on you, boy. Eyes that have no mercy, and will find anything to sully you and your friend here."
Jack's grasp on Jamie's shoulder tightened ever so slightly.
The door to the schoolhouse opens, cutting the painful tension that had gathered over the three. "Schoolmarm Miller, are you ready?"
Miller nods. "Yes, I am now, dear. Have patience." She brushes the dirt from her skirts, and promptly departs without so much of a nod to him and Jack. How rude. Once the door to the schoolhouse is closed for good, the hand on Jamie's shoulder tightens enough to be nearly painful and he is hauled away from the building.
Jack is pale, his breath stuttering, though his grip is strong over Jamie's shoulder, staff clutched in his right hand as he pulls Jamie elsewhere, past clusters of clapboard structures, wagons pulled by horses, and people walking on the streets. He ignored the looks he received from them, some turning to whisper to each other, not so discreetly.
Somehow, Jack spots this too, and he scowls at them, which only makes their heads shake in disapproval. Jack's grip does become painful at this, earning a grimace from Jamie.
"Jack?'
"What?" His tone is still frosty, though he isn't sure if it is directed at him.
"Where are we going?"
His question seems to snap Jack out of his stupor, and he halts in the middle of the packed dirt road where a group of men hover near what appears to be a tavern, based on the lively chatter emitting from the open door and the stink of alcohol wafting from the drunken men nearby.
Something sinks in his gut when one of the men catches sight of them, Jack's hand still holding Jamie's shoulder. "Oi, is it who I think it is?" Booms the voice of the drunk man built with bulging muscles, sporting an unkempt blonde beard. As he approaches, stumbling over his own feet, the smell of beer gets stronger, sharper and more unpleasant. Disgust curdles in Jamie's gut.
Jack's hand switches from his shoulder to his wrist, and his steps speed up in an attempt to get away from the inebriated man. "Come on. You don't want to meet those guys." Their steps become a quick jog when a shout emits from behind them, followed by a curse and a loud thump on the hard dirt. Risking a glance back, Jamie sees the drunk man nursing his nose as he struggles to stand.
They both make eye contact, unexpectedly, and the man's face twists into something ugly. His mouth opens, revealing blackened teeth as he starts spitting, "Curse you, devil boy! You'll get what is coming for you!"
Jogging turns into a run, and soon the man's hateful words are fading as they enter the dense forest.
Jamie can't help but shudder when the man disappears behind the foliage they enter, departing the village and emerging into the deep fall forest. Though they're now out of sight from the man and the tavern, Jack keeps pulling him along, his breath getting heavier as he starts to lag.
Once the thin trees become thick with twisted roots and drooping canopies blocking out the sun, Jamie yanks Jack to a stop. His breaths are wheezing now, painful and shallow. Jamie holds him as he leans forward to try and hack out his lungs, spittle flying onto the soil. Eventually Jack calms, clearing his throat a few times before standing upright and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, breathing as deeply as he can.
"Are you okay?" Jamie asks tentatively.
Jack nods quickly. "Yeah, I'm good."
Having seen the awful struggle to breathe, almost as if he were having either a panic attack or an asthma attack, he really isn't soothed by the breathless words. "Are you sure?"
"Yes, Jamie." Jack sighs tiredly, annoyed. "I'm fine."
You say that a lot. Jamie doesn't say.
After a moment of silence passes, Jamie speaks. "Why are we here?"
"I wanted to visit the lake."
Jamie blinks. "The lake."
"Yes."
"The lake that, from what I was told, you nearly drowned in?"
Jack turns to face him, frowning. "I did not nearly drown! I just fell in."
"Sounds a lot like a precursor to drowning." Jamie can't help but point out.
"Ugh," Jack groans, "Never mind."
In the silence as they trek their way around roots and upturned trees, Jack's soft wheezes breaking the quiet, Jamie can't help but drown in his thoughts of home. Just at the reminder of home, Jamie felt his sinuses start to sting. It was almost every hour he encountered something new in this time period, his homesickness grew stronger until it nearly choked him. Like the seven hells under Earth, he missed his family terribly. He wanted to feel his mom's hugs again, his sister's bantering, and old Abby's kisses. He yearned to see his friends again, to laugh about the stupidest things like cat memes and the craziest trends; to walk safely on the sidewalk to his favorite coffee shop from his dorm building, to chat with his online friends and listen to music on his phone. Heck, he even misses the stress brought on by college exams! Speaking of… Jamie reached into the pocket of his trousers and pulled out said device, staring at the screen of his friends huddling around him for a picture.
"Jamie, we're here."
Startled, he looks up to see Jack watching him. "Already?"
Behind his friend is the aforementioned lake, silent and still. It is jarring to see it unfrozen, so unfamiliar to its usual frozen state in his time. It is wide, very wide, and encased by massive boulders and trees that in Jamie's time looked ancient, but now look quite young with thin trunks and sprouting branches a few feet taller than the average human.
Around them, the sun peeks from the clouds, its beams lighting up the remaining tree leaves, meeting the gently lapping waves of the lake and sending thousands of glittering diamonds across its surface. It was beautiful.
"Wow," he murmurs as Jack takes a seat on one of the smaller boulders, patting the space beside him, and he takes the offering given to him.
"I know, right?" Jack chuckles in disbelief. "I've always had it frozen over as long as I could. Seeing it like this is… strange."
"You're not in Burgess during the summer?" Jamie asks curiously. Jack shakes his head, "No, I'm—well, I was—a winter spirit and summer is not my domain. Plus, it's way too hot."
Unthinkingly, Jamie requests, "Can't you just freeze–?" He stops, realizing his blunder, eyeing Jack whose faint smile dims entirely. Wincing, he apologizes, but the teen just waves it off. Again. His guilt boils into mild frustration.
"Jack," Jamie grumbles, growing tired of Jack's dismissive attitude. "Come on. You gotta give me something here. I can't help you if you just say 'I'm fine' all the time."
Jack becomes frustrated, too, which isn't really fair, in his opinion. "What am I supposed to say? 'Oh, here I am having an existential crisis because not only am I human again, I'm bloody stuck in my past'?"
Ignoring the fact that Jack had suddenly gained an accent, Jamie countered his argument. "Well, look at me! I've never encountered something like this! It's amazing and terrifying all at once!"
"Of course it is, you fucking ponce! 21st century boy experiencing the awfulness of days past! I'm like you, too! I haven't the time to adjust, having been so far removed from all this rubbish!"
"Rubbish?" Jamie can't help but snort. Since when was Jack Frost a British boy who swore like a sailor?
"You know what I'm talking about." Here his accent begins to bleed back from a British tone to an American one, and he turns away from Jamie in protest, arms resting on his knees, face hidden.
After a moment he speaks, his tone flattened but warbling. "I'm scared."
And Jamie flashed back to the moment when he was only ten years old, had just met Jack Frost himself, had been confronting Pitch Black and his Nightmares, and had spoken the exact same thing.
Unlike Jack Frost, unfortunately, Jamie didn't have any age-old words of wisdom to depart to his friend. He wasn't an immortal spirit like Jack, with centuries of experience under his belt and bearing an ancient wisdom only the most soulful people would die for. Jamie didn't have any of that, like his friend.
Somewhat awkwardly, he rests an arm on Jack where his back is slouched close to his hunched shoulders. "I'm scared, too." He admits. Jack doesn't say anything.
"I'm scared of a lot of things in this new world. The rules, the people, even the drabness of the town itself. Never have I seen anything so lifeless. Hell, even time travel is scary! And neither of us know how we got here! It's pretty interesting, I'll admit—"
A frustrated groan escapes Jack as he stands abruptly x "For god's sake, Jamie. You're not helping!" He runs a hand through copper brown hair, making it stick up even more. "All you do is ask questions, questions, questions! All you talk about is time travel this and time travel that! Granted, it's not all the time, but it's been barely over a week and I know you've been over the Moon about it!" He points a finger when Jamie moves to protest, "And don't look at me like that! I've seen the look on your face!" Here, he turns starry-eyed, hand waving as he mocks in a false smile, "Oh the beautiful architecture! The clothing, the customs, the rules! Oh, I'm witnessing history before my very eyes and I can't wait to tell my friends!"
Indignant anger boils in Jamie's blood. He stands to approach Jack, scowling. "Hang on! That is not what it's like at all!"
Jack's scowl deepens into a glare. "Oh is it? You insulted my mother, embarrassed me in front of the whole town, yet your head is always in the clouds, and is always checking your phone!"
"Because I miss my friends, you ass!" Jamie bites back. "And I didn't know anything about the church here because you never told me!"
"Then maybe you should've paid more attention!"
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"I gave you lessons, you do realize?" Jack tapped his temple, eyebrow raised. "I taught you about the clothes here, the language—I did tell you things, you just didn't listen! You've been all gooey about time travel and suddenly you were bored! I tried to get you to pay attention, but you were too busy itching for your phone!"
"I was homesick, and I've been dealing with this shit, too! Sitting on my knees to be humiliated is awful!"
"Well, news flash: so am I! And I don't even rely on that stupid technology anyway! Plus I have no clue where to find the Guardians, if they even exist!"
"Have you even tried to find them?" Jamie demands.
"Yes!" Jack snaps. "And I miss our friends, too!"
Having nothing else to say, his anger raging like a wildfire, he says one last thing: "You know what, fuck you!"
Hurt flashes in Jack's eyes, but he hides it with a glare. "Fuck you, too!"
Still ensnared by the fury in his veins, embarrassed at being mocked so callously, the emotion overtaking his rational thinking, Jamie fights to get the last laugh. "Besides, what do you know about friends? You've been alone for centuries, no wonder you're so bad at friendship! Or being Believed In."
Silence.
Ice. Ice is what he feels in his blood, running down his skin like cold sweat. His eyes grow wide, but he doesn't dare look back. Jaw clenched, arms held tightly together he remains silent, listening to his own harsh breath.
Daring to look after several long minutes, all he sees is the forest around him. Jack is gone, having fled so quietly Jamie hadn't even heard it.
Alone in the middle of nowhere, Jamie buries his head in his shaking hands. "Fuck."
He knew there was no taking back what he'd said. No chances. The rift that had been slowly forming between him and Jack had finally gotten too big for either to reach for salvation.
It seemed…
It seems like their friendship is over.